I Can't Lose Us Again
by vanilleah
Summary: Merlin has been waiting for Arthur to return for over one thousand years. Through all the times of terror that Albion had been through, he had prayed for the king's return in its time of need, but his longing was in vain. However, there was one thing that he forgot to consider: he is all that is truly left of Albion. When he loses all hope, will his cries for help finally be heard?
1. Prologue

**Hi, everyone! I got the inspiration for this story from a couple of different Merlin Tumblr posts that I loved, but all of the writing and dialogue is my own. ****This is one of my first Merlin fanfictions, so I hope that it's alright! Please review :)**

A black, icy fog loomed over the edge of London. There were few that dared to go outside, facing the unusual bitter cold of early autumn. The wind shook the frail branches of young trees and the worn signs decorating Rigden Avenue that screamed "Slow," and, "Stop," at anyone that came near the apartment building towering over the street and shops.

Though the wind howled through the darkness, in one apartment, it was quiet- almost too quiet if you asked anyone other than its resident. A single lamp was enough to illuminate the three small rooms inside. The windows were sealed shut and locked, and the temperature indoors was nearly as cold as the air outside. The only noises inside of the home were the buzzing radiator near the kitchen and one man's soft breaths. He sat in a wooden chair beside his bed, a cup made of thin glass filled with water in his hands. He stared into the glass, visions of the past swirling inside the shadows of the water. They were only in his head, but to him, they were more real than the world around him.

He could see visions of light, then of darkness. Of laughter, then of poison. Of joy, then of misery. His respirations grew shuddery and quick as the sights turned to memories, revived after such a long time, after so many years of struggle to destroy them. Memories of betrayal, of despair, of tragedy. It was as though he was living them again, and as the first tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, the cup slipped from his fingers and shattered against the floor with a deafening crash.

His body shook, his senses filled with panic and loss, as remembrance of his failures clouded his mind and stunned his rationality.

_Weapons clashed against one another._

"No," he murmured, so hushed that he was nearly inaudible.

_The piercing sound of a blade ripping through skin pounded in his ears._

"No, no, no…"

_Someone fell against the ground. Nothing would save them now._

"Stop!" he screamed, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. "Leave me alone…" His voice broke, once again reduced to quietness. He buried his face in his knees, unable to hold back the sorrow that he had managed to keep at bay for so long. His cries came from deep within him, choking him, a feeling long forgotten yet so familiar.

This was a broken man. A fragile being so young yet so old. He had been waiting for far too long. His failures to save the ones that meant most to him crushed him like the wave of a storm at sea, but he refused to give up. _He will come back, _he told himself. _He will._ He could never forget his lost friend's name, and prayed that his friend did not forget his.

But that name was not Emerson— the name that he had given himself nearly two hundred years earlier in order to blend in with the modern crowds. The name that reflected yet another title that he often despised.

It was his true name— the name that he had been given at birth that made him human. The name that had always had been his and always would be:

Merlin.


	2. Chapter One

**Hi, again, everyone reading this! Here's a new chapter to the story. The next chapter might take a while for me to write, but I'll try to get some of it done this weekend. ****Thanks to those of you that reviewed, favorited and followed after just reading the prologue! I hope you continue to do so if you like it :) Enjoy this chapter!**

His eyes fluttered open, though when they did, he could not see anything but darkness. He looked around, trying to find something, anything. He tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth, he realized that he was trapped in a prison of water. His heartbeats, once slow, grew rapid as he thrashed his arms and legs, struggling to get to the surface. He did not know how far underwater he was, and he was suddenly filled with a nearly crippling fear of death. He felt himself falling down instead of rising up, and his panic spiked. _No! _

A ray of light shone into the darkness, illuminating a path to the surface. He swam to it as fast as he could before it disappeared, floating upwards to the source of the light. _Light… sun. _He desperately pushed himself upwards, but to no prevail. He only sank further. _Armor. Too heavy. _Focusing on staying awake as his held breath diminished, he curled his knees towards his chest and pulled off his thick boots, relieved when his body rose. He returned to swimming with all of his might, and just as he released the last of his breath, the tips of his hair cut through the water.

The warmth of the sun enveloped his entire upper body as Arthur Pendragon gasped for the sweet air that surrounded him. He spread his arms to keep afloat and sputtered when his lips touched the lake's surface. His vision was blurred by the water, but he managed to blink it away. He wildly jerked his head from left to right, searching desperately for land. He spotted a sliver of shore not too far away, and stroked his arm through the water in a pitiful attempt to swim towards it. Almost immediately he began to sink once more and he regretted his action. _Damn! _He would not make it. He couldn't. He would be left to drown, and no one would even know that he was there. No one would ever know that he had taken a new breath.

But there was somebody there. A presence. He felt his body rise from the lake, as though someone was lifting him. He gasped, looking down and up, but he could see no one through the dark waters nor above him. Whatever force was at work here, it pushed him along the lake's surface, gently yet swiftly, and before he could even begin to register what was going on, Arthur was lying atop of the thin beach, coarse sand tickling his cheeks and clinging to his soppy, blonde hair.

Knowing that he was safe now, Arthur hungrily swallowed large gulps of misty air and made an attempt to sit up, but his weakened limbs would not allow it. He fell back onto his side, the scabbard of his sword digging into his hip. With a grunt of effort, he rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply but steadily. The air around the lake was warm, but the breeze was cool and pleasant, splashing a soft spray of freshwater across his face.

Arthur let his lips form a thin smile of relief and he exhaled a laugh of triumph. However, the small sign of joy slipped away when he opened his eyes once more.

There was a woman standing before him, giving him a friendly smile. Even on the ground Arthur could tell that she was not quite as tall as him, but nonetheless she towered over him as though she were some sort of goddess. After blinking a couple of times to be sure that his mind was not playing tricks on him, he pieced together his puzzle and realized that she may have been the one to lift him from the lake, as water poured down her arms and legs and dripped from her chin.

The first thought that came to his mind was that she was beautiful. Her eyes were big and brown, and long ebony hair tumbled down her shoulders. She wore a violet and indigo dress that was loose in the sleeves and skirts and hugged her waist. It looked vaguely familiar, but he could not remember where he had seen it before.

She took a short yet graceful step towards Arthur, and he tried to back away but only moved a few inches. He swallowed in mild anxiety before asking with blatant hesitation, "Who… are you?" He cursed at himself for allowing his voice to crack, but his throat was unbearably hoarse and his underused vocal cords could not deliver the sound that he desired.

The woman did not seem to mind, though. "I am the Lady of the Lake, King Arthur Pendragon. I do not believe that we have properly met." Something flashed across her eyes, some emotion that Arthur could not pin, but her general expression remained the same: kind, gentle, and unmoving.

Arthur cleared his throat before speaking again, and pain burned in the back of it. He swallowed again to ease it, glancing away from the Lady of the Lake in embarrassment, but she remained patient. When Arthur was able to compose himself, he looked up into her eyes again. They captivated him, made him suddenly feel ever so relaxed that he almost could not speak, but at last he did. "My Lady… Did you… You saved me, didn't you?"

She nodded, her hands clasping behind her back. "That I did, young king. I could not leave you to drown. Especially not after your long-awaited return. This moment is far too precious to ever be wasted, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur was beginning to feel confused, but he could not let his potential ignorance weaken him. His brow furrowed, and he gave the woman a hard stare. "You said that we haven't met. How do you know who I am?"

The Lady of the Lake laughed softly, like the sound of spring on a rainy afternoon, and Arthur was nearly knocked off guard by its sweetness. "Oh, young Pendragon. There is not a soul who does not know who you are. Your tale has lived long in the minds of men."

"My… tale?"

"Indeed. The story of you bringing Albion to greatness has been one of great significance."

Arthur's gaze drifted away from the woman's face. _Bringing Albion to greatness. _ Without realizing it, his chest puffed with pride and his mouth stretched into a grin. If Merlin had been there, there was no doubt that he would have made a cheeky comment on Arthur's display of "arrogance".

Merlin. Arthur's smile melted into a frown as he remembered his friend. Everything suddenly came back to him: the secrets told, feelings revealed, gratitude expressed, all for what seemed like the first time. The thing that crushed him most was all that Merlin had done without seeking any sort of thanks, except maybe for a day off that he never got.

Arthur looked back up at the Lady of the Lake. "I could not have done any of it without my se— friend. All of my friends."

She seemed pleased. "Oh, yes, I know. It was never your destiny to achieve Albion's success on your own. The warlock, Emrys, shared the same one."

Arthur's breath hitched. "E-Emrys?" he stammered. "You mean… Merlin?" _She knows who Merlin is?_

She beamed. "Indeed. It was his destiny to help you, Arthur, and to protect you."

She lost the king's attention once more. He stared forward, remembering moments that had almost managed to slip through the cracks of his memory.

* * *

"_I'm coming with you."_

_Merlin, the chances are I'm going to die._

"_Yeah, you probably would if I wasn't there."_

* * *

"_You don't have to sacrifice yourself."_

_I have to save my people._

"_I will take your place."_

_Merlin..._

"_What is the life of a servant, compared to that of a prince?"_

* * *

_Merlin, what exactly are you going to do?_

_I'm going to be at your side, like I always am… protecting you._

* * *

_So eager to die for me. Always protecting me, and even when he told me so, I didn't believe it. The truth was in front of my eyes and I couldn't see it. What kind of master am I? What kind of _friend _am I?_

Arthur shook his head and blinked away the tears that had betrayed his will by welling in his eyelid. "Merlin… My Lady, please, tell me— how many years have I been beneath the surface of that lake?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes momentarily filled with pity. "Oh, young Pendragon, it has been… longer than I can remember." She felt guilty for lying, but knew that the truth would be too much for the already overwhelmed king. Arthur's expression grew dark at her reply, but hope flashed over it when she said, "However… I bet that _he_ can."

Arthur's jaw dropped, and his heart leapt. He locked eyes with her fiercely. "You mean… Merlin… he's still alive?"

She nodded. "Yes. He still lives, but he is weak. His time without you has taken its toll on him." Arthur felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He did not realize that Merlin cared for him so. "He resides in London, a city that lies in southern Tir Mor," she continued. "He has needed you for some time, and at last, you have returned." She smiled, almost in relief. She had been watching over the sorcerer ever since the king of Camelot had perished, helplessly seeing and feeling his despair, and was more than glad for the Pendragon's return.

"Tir Mor… London. And you are telling the truth?"

"Why would I not? I wish only the best for Emrys. For Merlin. He helped and loved me when I needed him." She paused and gave a small sigh with a smile. _Love?_ Arthur thought, and his lips parted to inquire further, but she had already begun to continue. "And now he needs me to send you. I will guide you as much as I can, but you must get to him… before it is too late."

Arthur's frown deepened. "What do you mean, 'too late?'"

She shook her head. "He lacks much to live for now, Arthur. He is going mad." Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. Merlin? Mad? The very idea seemed impossible, let alone the fact that it was true. Arthur could hardly believe what he was hearing. "He needs _you_, Arthur."

Arthur stared at the grey waves that lapped at her feet. At the prison that had held him captive for God knows how long. How had he even gotten there? The last thing that he could remember was being held in Merlin's arms, listening to his friend screaming his name and shaking him as his life slipped away from him forever. Or, what may as well have been forever. He bit at the inside of his cheek once, remembering, and deciding. There was no telling what sort of state Camelot was in right now. He was certain that Guinevere must have ruled it well, but there was always a risk of the kingdom falling. And then Guinevere was another story. Should he see her first? She was his beloved wife, after all. Any other king would surely see their love after first waking from the dead (_if _they did, that is).

But the words of the Lady of the Lake rang in his ears. '_He lacks much to live for now… he needs _you_.'_ They were all that he needed to make up his mind. He locked his own blue eyes with her brown, unwavering ones. "Tell me how to get to London."


End file.
